The Weiss Fanfiction Academy
by Jiasa Stormcloud
Summary: How would YOU like to go to a university to study Weiss fanfiction, with classes taught by the anime's characters? A spin-off (with permission)of the ever-so-wonderful OFUM. It was only a matter of time, folks.
1. In which Strange Things occur

Notes: This fanfiction is a spinoff of the amazing "Official Fanfiction University of Middle Earth," by Camilla Sandman. If you haven't read it, do.

I don't own Weiss Kreuz. If you sue me, you will get exactly five dollars. Is that worth the legal fees, people?

**The Weiß Kreuz Fanfiction Academy**

It was late. (1)

In a darkened room, before a faintly glowing computer screen, sat a writer. A fanfiction writer.

Let's examine.

This writer's name was Clara. She was nineteen years old, and, on a night when she really ought to be studying for her European History quiz, was dinking around with a fanfiction.

. . . This is not unusual behavior, for a writer.

Clara grinned, a caffeine-maddened, four-a.m. grin, at her computer screen. It stared back with a faintly terrified expression. (2)

"'_I love you, Brad,' Schuldig said, staring up into his lover's beautiful, amber eyes._

_'I love you too, Angel,' Crawford replied, the words escaping his soft lips as if flying on moth-wings._

_With that, the American pulled Schuldig close, breathing in the smell of his flame-red hair, and they drifted off into sleep in eachother's arms."(3)_

This bit of cotton-candy fluff was definitely going to bring in the reviews.

Clara saved the story to her computer (which, if she'd listened closely, she would have heard emit a muffled sob), and pulled up the "document manager" screen on fanfiction.net. For the moment, she didn't mind that she had to be in class in five hours. Sleep was unnecessary when supplemented with fluffy shounen-ai scenes. She paused with her finger poised over the mouse, ready to click "upload." There was something very cold, and very hard pressed into the base of her skull.

"You really shouldn't do that."

"Uhm." She took her hand off the mouse.

The gun was removed. "Good."

Clara, very slowly and very meekly, turned to face the speaker. She was staring up into a pair of (4) amber eyes. "Eep."

She had a creeping suspicion that she may be about to die.

"Achem. I am here from the Weiss Kreuz Fanfiction Academy, inviting (5) you to enroll at our prestigious establishment and improve your knowledge of canon, writing skills, and survival instincts through our unique curriculum, based around a 'Learn or Suffer' philosophy." The speech had a written, revised, rehearsed, and reinforced (6) sound.

When Crawford handed her the stack of registration papers, Clara didn't need to look for a pen. It leapt off of the desk and into her hand.

"I trust you'll consider our offer," he stated.

Clara nodded mutely. She didn't watch him leave. She expected anything other than filling out her application would get her killed.

It **is** past four, she thought. _I could be dreaming._

She decided not to take the risk.

_1, _said the form (7) _what is your name?_

_2. Have you actually bothered to watch the anime series Weiss Kreuz?_

_3. What genre do you write?_

_5. Do you, or have you, ever written a Mary Sue (see glossary)_

Putting her application on hold for the moment, Clara leafed through the stack of papers. It was about a foot high. The glossary, at the back, took up roughly a fifth of this. Another fifth was registration information. The rest was rules, a list of items to pack, and a thick packet labeled Crimes Against Language, Canon, and Characters.

Eep.

The computer smirked at her. Vengeance, at last!

"Don't give me that look," she told it. "You're coming with me."

Clara spent the next two hours packing, filling out forms, and making a mental note to skip history. If this was a dream, it was a tiring one.

She fell asleep with her head on the stack of papers.

Approximately an hour and a half later, she awoke with her head resting at an odd angle, and most definitely not in her dorm room.

Clara opened one eye, and found herself peering at what appeared to be a pair of small tarantulas. She yelped.

". . . ow," said the tarantulas.

Clara took a deep breath, blinked several times, and looked again.

The tarantulas were, in fact, a pair of heavily-masacaraed eyes, belonging to a pale-faced girl, slightly younger than Clara herself.

". . . hi?" the girl said.

"Uhm, hi." replied Clara. "I'm Clara."

The girl smiled nervously. "I'm Caoimhe.(8)"

Clara stared. ". . . really?"

Caoimhe sighed. "No," she said sadly. "My real name's Kelly."

A crackling sound came from overhead. Clara glanced nervously upwards. Her sleep-deprived brain kept expecting things to explode suddenly. She was only slightly calmed by the cheery voice from what she now realised was the intercom.

"Hello, my name is Sakura Tomoe, and I'd like to welcome our new students to the Weiss Kreuz Fanfiction Academy! The plane will be landing shortly. Buses will be waiting to take you to our lovely campus. Upon arrival, you will report to the main office, where you will be issued room assignments, course schedules based upon your personal needs, and campus maps. Have a lovely year!"

Oh. A plane.

"This is all pretty weird, huh?" Caoimhe commented. "I mean, it's like starting all over with college, but for ficcing. I can't believe there are so many people!"

Clara looked around, and saw, for the first time, that the plane was packed. Prospective students, mostly female, filled every seat. Some of them were chatting excitedly, others looking around, and a few simply sat and stared at the backs of the seats in front of them, looking more than a little terrified. These were the ones Clara sympathised most with.

"I heard there are two more planes, too," Caoimhe said. "And the information packets say our classes will be taught by the Weiss characters and everything."

Remembering the deathly gleam in Crawford's eyes the night before, Clara found it hard to share the other girl's excitement. She could not imagine taking classes with him, and preferred to keep it that way.

Suddenly, the plane dropped significantly. Clara shut her eyes tightly.

"There will be some minor turbulence during our landing, so everyone please fasten your seat belts!" said Sakura's voice over the intercom.

Minor, Clara thought. _MINOR?_

The plane lurched again. Clara whimpered and hugged the seat in front of her, fully prepared to die.

(1) Well, early, if you want to get technical. Four a.m.

(2) Many fanfiction writers do not consider the feelings of their computer about what they are used to create. This is cruel.

(3)Clara's fanfiction was not particularly unusual, either.

(4)Not so much beautiful as wrathful.

(5) Never before had Clara had such a compelling invitation. This one had a definite inflection of **OR ELSE** to it.

(6) With Crawford's own firm belief in the cause. And a gun.

(7) In Courier New font, size ten.

(8) Pronounced "Keeva," meaning "beautiful." Don't you just _love _Gaelic?

To apply for the WFA, send an e-mail to jiasachanyahoo.com with the following information:

Name:  
Nicknames:  
Gender:  
Have you ever written a Weiss Mary-Sue fic?  
Have you ever written shounen ai or yaoi for Weiss Kreuz?  
What is the main fault in your writing? (ex. purple prose, bad characterization, little to no plot, etc.)  
What is a quote you have said before or are likely to say?  
Other useful information:  
  
Do not leave this information in a review. If you apply through the review board, I will ignore your application.  
If you apply, I'll give you a cameo appearance in the fic if I can fit you in. If not, I'm sorry, but thank you for applying!

_Questions? Comments? Snide remarks?_


	2. In which we meet the obligatory mad room...

**Note:**

I don't own Weiss, but I promise I'll return it when I'm done.

Do not, I repeat, _**do not **_try to enroll in the WFA through the review board. Your application will not be accepted. Fanfiction.net guidelines forbid me to use the review board for anything but feedback. If I do so, my story will be removed. Please send any and all applications to my e-mail address, jiasachanyahoo.com. The format to use is at the bottom of chapter one.

**The Weiss Fanfiction Academy**

Once her feet were on solid ground, Clara felt marginally better. She spent the bus ride to the Academy campus trembling, but was relieved to find that her heart had not yet imploded. When the bus halted, she staggered onto the campus grounds, and followed the flow of the crowd. Signs pointed the way to dormitories, classrooms, and the main office.

It was several hours before Clara made her way into the office. She lurched up to the window, and blinked at the woman behind the glass. "I'm supposed to get my schedule?"

The woman adjusted her glasses, and turned to the computer. "Name, please?"

"Clara Henderson."

Clara couldn't help noticing that the woman never touched the keys. With fantastic speed, she pulled up the information on her computer and printed it out. She handed the schedule, campus map, and dorm information to Clara, who flinched. It was still hot from the printer. She waited, slightly impatient, for Caoimhe, who was close behind.

Caoimhe gnawed thoughtfully on her lower lip. "What classes do you have?" she asked.

Clara scanned her schedule. "'Characterisation: I Am Not a Cardboard Cut-Out,'" she replied. "Uhm . . . 'Yaoi: the Lemon, it Burns!' 'Eyes are Not Gemstones: De-purpling Your Prose,' and 'Remedial Reality.'"

Caoimhe stared. "You're a yaoi writer?" she said. (1)

"Yeah . . ." said Clara. "And?"

". . . Oh." replied Caoimhe.

There was a long moment's silence between the two. Clara stared at her shoes.(2) Caoimhe became suddenly very interested in her chipped black nail polish.

"Uhm, we've got Characterisation and Reality together," Caoimhe finally said.

"Cool," Clara managed.

The treck to the dorms was spent in rather stilted conversation. They were in the same building, only a few rooms apart.

"So, I'll . . . uh, see you in class," said Caoimhe, still a bit uncomfortable.

"Right," replied Clara. She fumbled with her key, and eventually managed to jam it into the lock. It turned with great difficulty, as if the lock had rusted with disuse. She had an eerie feeling, however, that it was doing this just to spite her(3). She glared at the door.

It smirked.

"Worse than the damn computer," Clara muttered, and gave it a kick. Her foot throbbed unhappily. The door didn't budge. She slammed her shoulder into the door, and it flew open. Clara landed in a heap at the feet of a short girl with glasses and a long braid.

"The door's a bit troublesome," said the girl. "Did you hurt yourself?"

"No," Clara said, massaging her shoulder. "Not at all."

Clara, with some difficulty, got to her feet and followed the other girl into the dorm room. A quick glance gathered that her possessions had already been brought in.

"My name is Fury," said the girl. "And you are . . . ?"

"Clara."

"Well then," asked Fury. "What are you doing penance for?"

Clara blinked.

Fury opened a desk drawer and rummaged in it, searching for something. "You know. Your trespasses. The reason you're here."

"Oh. Uhm . . ." Clara leafed through her papers, and pulled out her list of Crimes. "Use of purple prose, horrific characterization, vomit-worthy fluff, grossly inaccurate view of sexuality, over-use of commas . . ." She flinched. _I never knew I was that bad,_ she thought. "What about you?"

"Well," said Fury, pulling what appeared to be her own list from the drawer, "when they built the university, they found me under a rock."

Clara stared.

"I jest not! Then they found my computer under another rock. I think Yohji's precise words were 'purpler than Aya's damned Sue-eyes.' Anyway, my punishment was, after they had finished building, to paint the entire university. With a paintbrush of this size!" Fury indicated about the size of a sharpie pen (4) with her hands.

"Uhm."

Fury grinned.

Clara looked about the room, and decided this was entirely possible. Some of the walls had up to three different colors on them.

"Anyhow," said Fury. "Shouldn't we be going?"

"Where?" Clara wondered.

Fury pointed to Clara's schedule. "The orientation," she said. "We've got . . ." she glanced at the clock. "Fifteen-point-three seconds. Let's see . . . the Great Hall is near the main office, so . . ."

"So we're doomed," Clara finished.

Fury thought for a moment. "Yes, basically," she replied.

It was a rather sweaty and out-of-breath Clara that stumbled into the Great Hall and found a seat near the back. She received a disapproving look from a woman who, after a moment's shock, she identified as Manx.

She nudged Fury with an elbow. "Fury . . . did you see?"

"Manx. Yes. And I ran into Aya this morning. Canon characters all over. They're most of the staff, plus some Kritiker and Rosenkreuz members. There are a few others. Militant fandom purists, mostly. They're the ones who created it, but supposedly the rest of the staff was more than glad to help."

"Ah."

Manx glared at them.

"I think we need to shut up," said Clara meekly. She sank lower into her seat, glancing back at Manx through the corner of one eye.

"Achem," said a voice from the stage. The microphone screeched unpleasantly. "Achem . . ." (SCREEEEEEEEE) "Oh, for _frelling_ . . . oh, there we are." The woman smiled brightly. "Hello, students. Welcome to the Weiss Kreuz Fanfiction Academy. My name is Ms. Grim. I am headmistress at this esteemed university. If you try your hardest and follow the rules, you and I should get along very well. If you run afoul of me, you can expect pain, and many hours of hard work."

Fury shuddered, lost in memory.

"I expect you all _will _do your best," Ms. Grim said. There was a manic edge to her cheerful expression. "Now. I would like to introduce you to some of our staff members."

"It's not as if they don't already know who we are," said a flat, cool voice.

"Very well," said Ms. Grim. "Well. I would like you all to give a _respectful _welcome to the staff of our university."

At this point, Clara realised who the other figures on the stage were. "Oh, my--"

"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!" came the collective screech.

Fury clapped her hands over her ears and ducked under her chair.

Ms. Grim's hand tightened on the microphone. She twitched.

Clara followed Fury's lead.

"_QUIET, FOOLS!"_ bellowed Ms. Grim.

The Hall fell silent.

Ms. Grim cleared her throat. "Achem. Well, then. I suppose that's all," she said. "Enjoy your term at the Academy, students. You may go.

* * *

(1) For the uninitiated, it may be in order to explain that "yaoi", or "hot guy-on-guy lovin'", is a subject of great controversy in anime fandoms. The writers belong mainly to two camps of thought. The first is "Eeeeee! Aya and Ken look so CUTE together!" The second is ". . . but _I_ want them!"

(2) They were good shoes. They'd lasted three and a half years, despite continual abuse involving magic markers and a lawn mower.

(3) This was not, strictly speaking, inaccurate. You see, the doors, beds, tables, desks, and chairs in the university are all built with 100% Germanic Fighting-Pine.

(4) Possibly one of the most useful inventions known to man

* * *

_Questions? Comments? Snide remarks?_


	3. In which we learn the vital importance o...

Note:

I don't own Weiss, but I expect you knew that already.

Just a reminder for everyone-- do not try to enroll in the WFA through the review board. Your application will be ignored. Fanfiction.net guidelines forbid me to use the review board for anything but feedback. If I do so, my story will be removed. Please send any and all applications to my e-mail address, jiasachanyahoo.com. The format to use is at the bottom of chapter one.

Note to applicants: I realize I didn't ask you for a physical description in that form. If you want to supply one, go ahead. As a general rule, I'm really just making them up.

* * *

**The Weiss Fanfiction Academy**

_Day one of classes_

It was early. Really. Early.

Clara peered out from beneath her thin dormitory blanket. She wished she'd brought one from home-- she'd spent the night shivering on the mattress, which had all the softness of a brick, and wondering if the staff had taken it upon themselves to make the students as uncomfortable as possible.

She'd been awoken by the sound of Fury walking about the room, talking to herself under her breath. The girl was now seated on her bed, pulling on what appeared to be hockey pads.

"What are those for?" Clara asked, barely managing to control her tired vocal chords.

Fury shrugged. "You can never be too careful. I have _Characterization_first, and I've heard tell that Farfarello teaches it."

Clara gulped. "Really? That's my first class, too."

_Note to self: buy body armor. Soon._

"Have you written Farfarello fanfiction, then?"

"Well," Clara hesitantly admitted, "there was one . . . a humor fic, and, er . . ."

Fury was silent for a moment. She watched Clara's nervous expression. She rubbed at a scratch in the paint on the wall. Then she turned back to her roommate, and said, "Whatever happens, my friend, know that you have my deepest sympathies." With that, she finished tightening her kneepads, and strode out of the room. "Class in ten minutes!" she called back over her shoulder. "You might want to get up!"

Clara swore. She threw her blanket off and pretty much leapt out of bed. The Characterization class was in the main building, on the opposite side of the campus. She pulled a sweater on over her pajamas, yanked on her shoes without socks, and bolted from the room, slamming the door shut behind her.

She ducked through the crowds, mentally cursing the large amount of people who seemed to be taller than herself, and finally, made her breathless way to the main building. At this point, she realized that she'd forgotten her room key. (1)

Clara found the classroom with relatively little difficulty (2) and staggered to an empty seat. The bell rang. Muscles she hadn't known existed relaxed. She wasn't late. Oh, thank the gods of yaoi, she wasn't late.

She glanced about. A few seats were still empty.

A deep voice at the front of the room chuckled softly. "Those of you who were on time can feel lucky. There are more to come, and they will soon be very unhappy."

Clara shuddered. Fearfully, she peered at the speaker from the corner of one eye. Farfarello, of course.

The door creaked open slightly. Farfarello's pale lips formed an eerie grin. He stared intently at the door. Two students, a boy and a girl, crept in, heads ducked low, and had made it nearly to their seats when they were stopped.

"Hello, students." Farfarello stood in their way, gazing a rather long distance down at the two.

"Hello," the boy responded, eyes suddenly gone very wide. He grinned nervously, and a bead of sweat stood out on his temple.

The girl stood in frozen silence.

"What are your names?" Farfarello questioned, head tilted to one side.

"Ehm. I . . ."

"Well?"

"Dani," said the boy. "I'm Dani. Can I . . . go sit down?"

Farfarello said nothing, only focused his gold eye more intently on the boy.

". . . Please?"

"And you?" asked Farfarello. He looked at the girl. "Who are you?"

"My name is Camilla," she replied.

Farfarello nodded. He strode across the room and sat down on a tall stool near the blackboard. "Sit down, Camilla. Dani."

The two slunk to their chairs, and, exchanging uneasy glances, sat.

"Welcome to _Characterization,_ students. This class will be vital to your writing. We will tear apart stereotypes and cliches, fix common misconceptions, and many other troubles beginning writers seem to have . . ."

As Farfarello continued on, Clara noticed both Camilla and Dani visibly relaxing. Dani propped his chin up on one hand.

Suddenly, Farfarello's low, even speech was interrupted by a loud BAM, and a yelp.

It appeared that Dani's desk had exploded. A moment later, Camilla's did the same.

The class surveyed the smoldering wreckage. Clara felt faint suddenly. Neither of them were moving . . . she prodded at a piece of charred plywood with her foot. Beneath it, Dani emitted a muffled "Eep."

"Now. You won't be late again, will you?" Farfarello said pleasantly.

* * *

1) This is the sort of thing that is inevitable. When you are late, you have _always _forgotten something vital, such as keys, notebooks, shoes, pens, or getting dressed.

(2) "Relatively" in this case, may be better read as "without falling into a pit full of spikes concealed by discarded fanfictions."

* * *

Having a bit of trouble with Farfarello's character. He should improve soon.

Sorry for the short chapter-- next one will be much longer.

_Questions? Comments? Snide remarks?_


End file.
